


Dancing in the Dark

by Tiofrean



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone, Clothed Sex, Dancing, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Idiots in Love, M/M, Smut, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:33:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7848829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/pseuds/Tiofrean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl and Rick manage to put an end to the conflict of their music tastes. While the Alexandrians are busy feasting after a successful run, Daryl does a bit of moping with a glass of whiskey. That is, until somebody asks him to dance. </p><p>__________</p><p>Or that one fic with a fuckload of Bruce Springsteen's songs' references.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> So this is that stupid thing that my brain does - every time I listen to Springsteen, I think a given song suits our boys perfectly. So I thought, why not write it? And then I plunged headfirst into the angst and had to make it better somehow. 
> 
> This one goes for you, Springsteen and Rickyl fans! I hope you'll enjoy! <3

It all happened after one of the longer runs. As soon as two cars packed with food, medicine and other supplies crossed the gates of Alexandria, everyone knew a feast would happen in the evening. And sure enough, five tables full of food and drinks were settled just after the sunset, the women of Alexandria doing all they could to take care of the supplies while simultaneously laying out a good portion of them on the picnic tables in front of Rick’s house.

While out on the run, Rick and Daryl found not only necessary supplies, but also some odds and ends that could be useful in the entertainment department. Along with them, a few CDs that seemed to have the chance of bringing the end to the continuous conflict between Rick and Daryl.

Their music tastes.

It was a truly fantastic moment when, bent over a box of old CDs and vinyls, they had agreed that Bruce Springsteen worked for the both of them. A miracle in this walker-infested world. And so, as soon as Rick had nodded in approval, Daryl had decided to grab the whole box, mentally punching his fist in the air in victory.

Now they were seated next to each other on two folded chairs, holding their respective drinks, watching as people laughed and chattered and, for the first time in two weeks, filled their bellies to the brim. It was such a good sight that Rick smiled into his whiskey, taking a small sip. The liquid burned his throat pleasantly, and even if he wasn’t planning on getting drunk on that night, he could certainly welcome a bit of an alcohol rush.

Rick looked up when a pair of sneakers appeared in his line of vision and he grinned a bit when he saw Michonne standing in front of him.  
“You two are gonna move anytime soon? Come on, everyone’s dancing” she smiled down at him, half-turning and making him look behind her. True, people were dancing, some of them paired up, some of them presenting their original styles solo. He placed his whiskey on the ground and stood, taking Michonne’s hand and leading her a few steps closer to the dancing team.

Daryl watched them sipping his whiskey slowly. The music was nice, one of his favorites, to tell the truth. Daryl had always liked Springsteen, the guy’s voice always sounded like he knew what he was singing about, like he had lived through each and every of the occurrences that were described in the lyrics. And now, when the song changed just after Michonne came to collect Rick, Daryl listened with intent, the lyrics washing over him like the fresh water in a river on a sunny day.

Longing. There was so much longing in the lyrics, even if the music was fast and perfect for dancing, the sorrow of losing a loved girl was so palpable in every word of the text that Daryl felt sorry for the man who sang this. It was a sad song, but people around didn’t seem to care, dancing wildly, trying not to lose their balance. Daryl’s eyes shifted to Rick and Michonne, dancing slowly, almost too slowly, talking about something in whispers. Michonne smiled and Rick laughed, tossing his head back and closing his eyes in mirth, and that was the precise moment Daryl decided he had enough of the party.

He huffed out, tossing back the remaining whiskey, wincing at the burn. He stood up, poured himself another glass at the nearby table and marched into Rick’s house. As soon as he stepped inside and closed the door, Daryl leaned back against the nearest wall, scooting down and sitting on the wooden floor. The door wasn’t thick enough to mute the sounds from outside completely. Hell, with the volume they were playing the music at, they would probably have another herd of walkers banging on their gates in the morning. Daryl growled out a few curses and names at the Alexandrians, vowing to talk to them tomorrow and explain as bluntly as possible what he thought about being so damn reckless.

But for now, he couldn’t even focus on what he wanted to tell them. The music was still coming through the door, the lyrics changing as the songs changed, but the theme remained the same. Love. Longing. Promises. Dreams of a better tomorrow.

Daryl cringed, feeling the alcohol taking its toll on him. He wasn’t an emotional kind of guy, at least not the one to show it on the outside. The life had taught him better than to turn into a crying mess every time he heard something that hit a bit too close home. He had learned not to cry, he had learned to fight instead, to bite and punch, to shout and growl, to do anything other than crying. But there was nobody in the empty house he was sitting in, and the alcohol was coursing through his veins, and the lyrics really hit a bit too close home for Daryl’s tastes. He hummed along, blinking rapidly to stave off any possible wetness that could have gotten that stupid idea of gathering in his eyes. God, he was so frustrated...

It could sound ridiculous to some, even to Daryl’s own ears, but he had a serious problem as of late. He was so utterly fucked when it came to Rick… It had started somewhere in the prison, dragged all through their way to Alexandria, and stayed with him on every lonely night ever since they had settled here. He tried to stop it, he really did, but there was no stopping one’s heart, and even if Daryl thought it stupid and ridiculous and absolutely unnecessary, he couldn’t fight his feelings. So he tried to ignore them.

He just didn’t think someone would write songs about them. _Many songs_. Songs speaking of fire burning deep inside him, of longing he felt every time he woke up in the middle of the night, his room empty and cold around him. Songs whispering about endless love and promising something that was so very far out of his reach. As soon as they had arrived in Alexandria, Rick had started to make goo goo eyes at that blonde, making Daryl roll his own. And then, when the girl disappeared from their lives, Rick started to flirt with Michonne and Daryl really was lost here.

Michonne was his friend, a wonderful person and a great fighter. Daryl thought very highly of her, and he reckoned they looked good together with Rick. Their leader needed someone close, and if there was any woman matching him perfectly, it was Michonne. If Rick wanted to start something with her, if she wanted the same, Daryl wouldn’t interfere. They were his friends, _his family_ , and he wanted them to be happy.

It didn’t stop Daryl from _wanting_ , though. He knew that logically he was being ridiculous, lusting after a man that obviously wasn’t interested in _that_ , but his heart and body didn’t care a bit and continued to ignore his brain. And so now, Daryl had to do some ignoring, too, and wait for the things to pass. They will, he knew that, one day they will pass and he would be able to watch Rick flirt with anyone without getting jealous. Someday, Daryl would be able to be truly happy for Rick to be with another person, without feeling like if someone had punched him in the gut. But right now, all he could do was to sit and listen to the lyrics, slowly finishing his whiskey.

And the songs went on. First the one about not surrendering, then one about walking home. The second was so very familiar, so loaded without being crushing, that Daryl had to fight his own emotions. Dreaming about home, about making it to whatever proverbial place it was, the regret of not finding it quickly enough. It all got a bit too deep under Daryl’s skin and he downed the rest of the whiskey, setting the glass aside and humming along to the scratchy voice. He was so immersed in listening to it that he actually startled when the door next to him opened, casting a soft glow on the floor.

“Daryl?” A voice asked and Daryl winced, rubbing his hands over his face.   
“Yeah?” He prompted when Rick took a step inside, turning and looking down at him.   
“Why are you sitting here?” Rick asked the stupidest of questions as he stared at Daryl. The hunter wouldn’t look at him, instead focusing on Rick’s legs, trying to talk his brain out of appreciating their beautiful shape. Daryl had been sure from the first moment he noticed Rick’s bowlegs, that he wanted them wrapped around his waist. It had only gotten stronger with time.

Rick took another step inside and closed the door behind him, squinting his eyes to see Daryl better. The song changed, lyrics revolving about lovers, about searching for that one, strong person, who could be the rock to ground yourself with. The longer Rick stood there before Daryl, the longer the hunter had a strange feeling that the song was about them. Rick was his rock, his home, his fucking _life_.

Suddenly, Daryl felt irritated. Rick shouldn’t be here, staring down at him. _Probably with pity_ , Daryl’s brain supplied, for he hadn’t even looked up at the man yet. With an exasperated huff, Daryl heaved himself off of the cold floor, standing up and finally levelling his eyes on Rick. Daryl took in Rick’s curious gaze and the beginnings of a smile ghosting over his lips, and he frowned.   
“Why aren’t ya out there?” Daryl grunted out, not really understanding why Rick would be looking for him. “Something happened?”

But Rick just shook his head in negative.   
“You coming back to us?” Rick asked and Daryl couldn’t help the incredulous look that took over his own face. Yeah, he was getting pretty damn irritated.   
“Why? Ya got ‘chonne, and it looked like ya two were gettin’ somewhere” Daryl scoffed, trying to walk past Rick and deeper into the house, but Rick stepped into his path, blocking him effectively. Sure, Daryl could just force his way through, he was much stronger than Rick, but he didn’t really want to do that.   
“What are you talking about?” Rick frowned, leaning in and locking his gaze with Daryl’s.

“Oh don’t pretend, Rick, I saw that flirtin’. ‘S good, ya two should get it together. Go on” Daryl waved his hand at the door. “Dance with ‘er some more, ya don’t need me sittin’ there to do that” now it was Daryl’s time to frown as Rick’s whole face changed, the expression of someone who had a sudden revelation written all over those handsome features. And then a little spark of _something_ crackled in Rick’s eyes and he grinned at the hunter.

“You jealous?” Rick asked, eyes crinkling merrily, and Daryl had to stop himself from punching him. Or kissing him. He really didn’t want his feelings out in the open just to have them danced and flirted over.   
“ _What?_ ”   
“No need” Rick stated stoically, taking a step closer to Daryl. “You want to know why I’m not there?” He waited for something, for a nod, for a ‘yes’, for any kind of indication that Daryl was listening to him. But Daryl just stared at him, eyes narrowed as Rick got even closer.

“You’re not there” Rick murmured in a low voice. “You’re not there and I wanted to dance with _you_ ” Daryl watched, not really believing what he was seeing, as Rick outstretched one hand towards him, palm up, asking him to take it. Daryl blinked down at the hand, then let his gaze travel up to Rick. No mocking smirk, no hidden motifs. Not that Daryl expected any from Rick, no. Daryl knew that man like he knew himself. Rick wouldn’t do something as cruel as that. But old habits die hard, especially old habits that had been drilled into him through all his childhood, so he had to check. But, Rick just stood there, a sincere expression on his face, eyes clear and blue, even in the dark, and Daryl couldn’t really say ‘no’. Not that he wanted to.

He placed his hand in Rick’s, huffing and rolling his eyes.  
“This is fuckin’ ridiculous” he didn’t even have the time to properly finish the sentence, before Rick’s fingers closed around his tightly, and the next thing he knew, he was dragged forward, Rick’s other arm wrapping around Daryl’s waist, keeping him in place. Rick pressed his whole front to Daryl’s, the warmth radiating off of him seeping through their clothes and Daryl could swear it all seeped right into his own body. They stood, pressed close like that, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, and Daryl was wondering what now? Rick was still for a moment, his chest rising in deep inhales the only movement from him.

 _He was listening to the music_ , Daryl realized. Sure enough, a moment later Rick started to sway gently, moving with the rhythm. Daryl listened on, scoffing at how utterly stupid they must have looked. But it was dark inside the house, and there was nobody around, so Daryl let his body move, too. And then, Daryl heard the lyrics.   
  
_And if you’re rough enough for love…_

He knew that he should just turn away and get out of there. Love songs, Rick holding him close and looking him in the eyes, the emotions still running through him… Really, he should just turn around and walk out of there. But something in Rick’s eyes held him in place, made him sway to the rhythm, made his hand travel up Rick’s arm, the one he had looped around Daryl’s waist. Daryl’s palm ended on Rick’s neck, fingers looping behind it and threading through his overgrown curls. Rick’s gentle swaying slowed down and for a moment they just stood there, looking at each other, and Daryl started to get nervous again. He could see Rick licking his lips, tongue peeking out to travel along them. Daryl had to stop himself from groaning at the sight it left behind, Rick’s gorgeous, plump lips all shiny and wet.

“You know what they say about dancing?” Rick asked, voice a whisper, and Daryl was glad he had to strain his ears to hear it. It stopped him from listening to more of those fucking lyrics. He didn’t answer, he just squinted at Rick, willing him to continue. Daryl really wanted to know where Rick was going with this, even though somewhere at the back of his mind, he already knew.

“They say that if you can dance with somebody, you can do anything with them” Rick whispered. Daryl eyed him, waiting for something… maybe for the other shoe to drop? But Rick’s face was open and honest, his eyes sincere, and Daryl could feel that little shiver that ran through Rick when he whispered those words. He couldn’t really remember who moved first, or who did what after that. Next thing Daryl knew, he was kissing Rick with all the longing he felt for him, with all those emotions that had been cruising through him earlier, brewing like a storm. Now, _now_ , it was a tornado, the wild nature roaring inside him, as he walked Rick backwards and pressed him into the nearest wall, pinning him down and plunging his tongue inside Rick’s mouth hungrily.

And Rick kissed him back just as fiercely, tongue stroking against Daryl’s, biting at his lips to make him gasp and moan, sucking them inside his mouth just to release them with a wet pop. Daryl groaned into Rick’s parted lips, panting against them when it all became too much and there was suddenly too little air around them. He felt Rick’s hands traveling across his back, from the shoulders down to his hips, nails digging through the fabric of his shirt, and Daryl was suddenly glad he wasn’t wearing his vest today. He didn’t want it to dull the sensations Rick was causing, the shivers thrumming down his spine getting harder with every scratch of Rick’s nails.

Daryl shuddered and groaned quietly, not really caring to stop his body from what it was demanding of him. Going by Rick’s reactions when Daryl drove his hips forward and let his hardening length rub all over Rick’s groin, he didn’t mind one bit. The hands from Daryl’s hips landed on his ass and Rick used them to keep him in place, silently encouraging him to rut against Rick’s own jean-clad cock. And Daryl did, working his body in long moves, the friction dulled by the material separating them still. Not that any of them complained. After going for so long without any human touch, they would be off at the first squeeze of a hand around them.

This way, Daryl could drink in all the little moans and grunts falling from Rick’s lips, he could bask in them as their brains slowly went offline and the only thing that counted was the pressure between them, the sparkling feeling low in their bellies, and those beautiful sounds surrounding them like a warm cocoon.

On a whim, Daryl grabbed Rick’s thighs and hiked them up, pressing into Rick even harder to keep them both balanced against the wall. The moan he received would be a good enough payment for this move, but the way Rick’s legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing him tightly, woke something primal inside Daryl’s mind. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to make this man fall to pieces in his arms, to pick him apart with hands and lips and pure pleasure. To reshape him completely with the fire of his passion that he was sure Rick could feel, too. So Daryl braced one hand next to Rick’s head, diving in for a kiss, as he used the other to hold Rick up, placing it on his ass and securing him in place. Daryl ground his hips a bit harder, a bit harsher and more jerkily into Rick’s groin, their lengths hard and hot even through layers upon layers of clothing, and he couldn’t stop his whimper when he actually felt Rick’s cock twitching when Daryl sucked his tongue inside his own mouth.

It was a dirty move and Daryl was aware of that, but it was worth pulling off, even if just to feel how Rick suddenly went pliant against him. It was as if his whole body relaxed and let Daryl take the reins completely, without hesitation and without shame. Daryl bucked harder against him, little spasms coursing through Rick’s body telling him exactly how close he was to coming, so he kept the pace up. Some rational part of his brain that still had some voice left told him to at least open their trousers, instead of chaffing them both to hell and back. But Daryl couldn’t be assed to care, not when he had Rick moving against him, writhing between his chest and the hard wall behind him, not when there were little helpless moans escaping him at an increasing speed.

And then, Rick threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, whimpering Daryl’s name and arching his back so hard he almost dislodged them both from the spot. Daryl panicked for a moment, afraid that they would fall, and he brought his arms around Rick’s waist, bodily pressing him back, letting his weight keep them in place as Rick shook and quaked against him, hips shifting and legs squeezing around Daryl’s hips. Something in that breathy whimper falling from Rick’s lips and in his thighs clamping around Daryl made him tumble over the edge, too.

He growled his pleasure into Rick’s neck, mouthing at it, licking the sweat from Rick’s skin, feeling the wetness seeping into his underwear, no doubt staining the front of his trousers, too. But it was alright, Rick had one hand curled around Daryl’s shoulder, the other treading softly through his hair, and it was all fine with Daryl. With a startling clarity he realized, that he could stay like this with Rick forever, aftershocks still rocking his body, making him hiss every time his hips rocked forward on a reflex and pushed his oversensitive cock into Rick’s groin. It made Rick hiss and grunt, too, and finally he decided that it was too much and disentangled his legs from around Daryl’s waist.

The hunter set him down slowly, making sure they both had their footing back, before he hesitantly stepped away. He didn’t know what to expect now. Rick had started something, and Daryl had finished it. Was that all it was? He hoped it wasn’t, because, when he stood there in front of their leader, he suddenly felt very cold without Rick’s warm body pressed against him. The whole front of his pants was uncomfortably wet and chilly, and he tried to calm his breathing as his eyes drifted to Rick. There was a stain on his jeans, too, a bit to the side of the zipper, and Daryl couldn’t help but wince mentally at what they had just done. In the dark, in their clothes, like a pair of _cavemen…_ And yet it had felt so fucking _good_ that he instantly wanted a repeat of it. And he wanted Rick’s warmth back against him.

Weighing his options, Daryl silently considered whether Rick would change and go back to the party outside. But a long glance at the door and a deep breath to voice his thoughts was about as far as he got, before Rick stepped closer to him and tugged him in for a long and sweet kiss. When they finally parted, it was slow and lazy, and so warm Daryl wanted to drown himself in it. He looked at Rick trying to read his expression, but came up with nothing. Rick was smiling softly, and it was a look that he wore so rarely, that Daryl’s mind drew a blank on it.   
“I’m done with this party” Rick whispered, in that manner that people liked to use in the middle of the night, even if they were alone in the room. “Come with me?” Rick phrased it as a question and Daryl nodded, not really sure where, and when, and how, but certain he would follow Rick for the rest of his life if he could.

Rick’s smile brightened seeing Daryl nod and he grabbed Daryl’s hand, turning around and tugging him upstairs. They ended up in Rick’s bedroom, laying down on the bed in their clothes but pushing them off when the wetness became too annoying. The covers were drawn over them in a few swift tugs, and now Daryl was lying next to Rick, their familiar silence encompassing them and lulling both to sleep.

Before Daryl let his eyes close, he turned around, trying to get comfortable, ending up with his back to Rick. He didn’t mind that Rick could see his scars, not anymore. Their leader had proved time and time again that he didn’t care nor mind. Sometimes, Rick’s gaze would linger on them for a longer moment and he would set his jaw tight and his cheek would twitch. But most of the time, he would just look at Daryl like they weren’t even there. Daryl quickly learned there was no pity for him, and the only thing bubbling inside of Rick when he looked at his battered back was anger mixed with compassion. And Daryl could live with it. Especially when it allowed him to sleep next to Rick like this, a ghost of the old times, their life on the road forcing them closer and closer. He felt safe like this, when he knew that Rick had his back and that he had Rick’s. You can’t surprise two fighters as easily as you could surprise one of them.

He was almost drifting off, when he felt Rick shift behind him, the mattress squeaking a bit. A tentative hand was placed on his side, and Daryl’s eyes opened, staring into darkness.   
“Can I?” Rick asked softly, and Daryl nodded instead of replying. Before he caught on his mistake and had the chance to adminish himself, because it was dark around and Rick probably didn’t even see the movement, Rick closed the small distance between them. His body tentatively pressed closer, Daryl’s back to Rick’s chest, until there was no space between them. The arm on his side sneaked around his waist, holding him in a loose embrace, as Rick breathed out a long exhale against the nape of Daryl’s neck.

“That okay?” The soft voice behind him asked, and Daryl could only swallow reflexively and squeeze the arm around him with one of his own hands, giving Rick a silent answer. He felt lips landing softly at the top of his spine, a small tickling feeling when Rick’s curls brushed against his skin, and one of Rick’s legs rubbing against his gently. But it was nothing compared to the warmth of Rick’s body behind him, to the steady heartbeat which Daryl could feel against his own ribs. He sighed, relaxing into the embrace, closing his eyes once again and sagging into the mattress. The party was still going somewhere downstairs, people laughing and singing along, but it was all so irrelevant now…

Daryl couldn’t even remember what they had been singing to last when he opened his eyes on the next morning. He was still in Rick’s bed and Rick was still next to him. They must have switched their positions, because now it was Daryl who was spooning behind Rick, one arm wrapped possessively around his middle, the other folded under Rick’s head and used as a pillow. Reluctantly, Daryl lifted his head and scanned the room, something was off about it, but he wasn’t sure what until his eyes landed on plate sitting on the bedside table. A plate that hadn’t been there the night before.

It was loaded with cookies and an apple, and there was a page torn out of a notebook laid out next to it. Curiosity winning over not wanting to wake Rick up, Daryl reached over him and grabbed the paper carefully. Rick grunted and turned around, facing Daryl and blinking up at him with bleary eyes.   
“What’s up?” Rick asked, fighting a yawn and failing miserably, opening his mouth and not really caring to cover it with his hand. Daryl eyed him, amused, and snorted, suddenly feeling like joking.   
“Don’t advertise yerself too much” Daryl smirked at Rick’s confused expression.   
“Huh?”   
“Never mind” the hunter shook his head and read the note, groaning when he finished it. He took in Rick’s even more confused expression and read it out to him.

“ _We’ve got your shifts covered with Carol, have a nice late morning. Kids are out so use your time - Michonne._ There is even a fucking smiley face at the end of it” Daryl rolled his eyes and passed the paper to Rick who promptly threw it over his shoulder and plopped back down on the pillows. He squirmed closer, shifting and jerking around, until he was close enough that he could bury his face in Daryl’s side, arms wrapping around him lazily. Daryl barked out a laugh. He had never given Rick’s ‘morning after’ much thought, and while he would probably be opposed to have a clingy octopus all over him on any given day, there was something about the lazy and uncoordinated way Rick moved that melted all of Daryl’s resolve and told him to hold him close and hold him _tight_.

And so, he did, wrapping one arm around Rick’s shoulders and getting a satisfied hum in return. Daryl was content to just head back to sleep, when Rick’s brain finally came online.   
“Wait, _what?!_ ” Rick squeaked, almost jumping away from Daryl and flopping around, scrambling to retrieve the page and read it. Daryl couldn’t really stop his laughter if he tried.


End file.
